John's impression of Mrs. Goddard was strengthened by the scene at the vicarage at the moment of leaving. The extraordinary nervousness she betrayed, the anxiety for her welfare shown by Mrs. Ambrose and the grave face of the vicar all favoured the idea that she had become an invalid since he had last met her. He himself fell into the manner of those about him and spoke in low tones and moved delicately as though fearing to offend her sensitive nerves. The vicar alone understood the situation and had been very much surprised at the squire's sudden determination to walk home; he would gladly have seized his hat and run after his friend, but he feared Mrs. Ambrose's curiosity and moreover on reflection felt sure that the dog-cart would overtake Mr. Juxon before he was half way to the cottage. He was very far from suspecting him of the absence of mind which he actually displayed, but it was a great relief to him to see the little party safe in the dog-cart and on the way homeward.
Mrs. Goddard was on the front seat with old Reynolds, and John, who would have preferred to sit by her side a few months ago, was glad to find himself behind with Nellie. It was a curious instinct, but he felt it strongly and was almost grateful to the old man for stolidly keeping his seat. So he sat beside Nellie and talked to her, to the child's intense delight; she had not enjoyed the evening very much, for she felt the general sense of oppression as keenly as children always feel such things, and she had long exhausted the slender stock of illustrated books which lay upon the table in the vicarage drawing-room.
"There is no more skating now," said John. "What do you do to amuse yourselves?"
"I am studying history with mamma," answered Nellie, "and that takes ever so much time, you know. And then—oh, we are beginning to think of the spring, and we look after the violet plants in the frames."
"It does not feel much like spring," remarked John.
"No—and mamma has not been well lately, so we have not done much of anything."
"Has she been ill long?" asked John.
"No—oh no! Only the last two or three days, ever since—" Nellie stopped herself. Her mother had told her not to mention the tramp's visit.
"Ever since when?" asked John, becoming suddenly interested.
"Ever since the last time the Ambroses came to tea," said Nellie with a readiness beyond her years. "But she looks dreadfully, does not she?"